


I'll Follow You Down

by doodlegirll



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Bartender Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Former Prostitute Dean Winchester, Happy Ending, Intended to read like a hallmark movie, I’m not sorry either, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Naomi is Castiel's Parent (Supernatural), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Castiel, Prince Castiel (Supernatural), Prince Gabriel (Supernatural), Skinny Dipping, Traditions, Widower Gabriel, and she is a meddling bitch, but she's not all bad, not a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23259196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodlegirll/pseuds/doodlegirll
Summary: Bound by duty and tradition, Prince Castiel Shurley has six months to marry before his 26th birthday, and has given up on the idea that he will marry for love. On his first night back in Caelum after years away at university, Castiel's brother sneaks him out of the palace and whisks him away to unwind at a bar across town, where Castiel meets a handsome green eyed bartender named Dean Winchester, who makes Castiel question everything he's ever known, including how much he is willing to sacrifice to preserve tradition, and how far he is willing to go to be with the man he loves.
Relationships: Amelia Novak/Jimmy Novak, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), Naomi/Chuck Shurley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings from Quarantine! (Well, technically social distancing...)
> 
> This has been my white whale fic for over two years! It was originally supposed to be set in medieval times where Dean was a thief and Castiel was a prince who had been sent away to recover from the death of his twin brother, but...that never did come to fruition. So, this was born! 
> 
> Yes, the kingdom is named Caelum because it's the Latin word for "heaven." Sue me, I'm not THAT creative. Either way, it is pronouned "kay-lum" and Caelumean is pronouned "kay-lim-e-en," which pertains to anything on a governmental or national level. However the citizens of Caelum are Caelites. So, in case you're confused: when something is Caelumean, it is pertaining to belonging to Caelum's government or traditions, but Caelites are citizens. Cool? Cool. 
> 
> The title from Shinedown song "Follow You Down."

_...In other news, His Royal Highness Prince Castiel is expected to arrive home in the capital Celestine this evening, having been abroad for his university studies for the past seven years. The last time the wayward prince was last in Caelum was four years ago, to attend the funeral of his older brother, Crown Prince Gabriel’s, wife Kali, who died in a tragic accident. Caelites everywhere rejoice in welcoming our beloved prince home, with several events scheduled over the next few days to celebraー”_

Castiel sighed as he used the small remote control to turn off the sound on the small television screen in the corner, slumping down into his seat a little further. He massaged the bridge of his nose with one hand, trying to drown out the noise of his mother’s incessant chatter in the background. 

“As you can see,” Naomi, Queen of Caelum and Castiel’s mother, said with a small wave of her hand towards the television. “The people are quite excited to welcome you home. We’ve been waiting for this day for quite a while, since you decided to forego a PhD and return home. I just don’t know why it took you a _year_ to do so.” 

_“_ I didn’t ‘decide’ anything, Mother.” Castiel corrected her. “If anything, you twisted my arm with this whole ‘tradition’ business.” 

Naomi narrowed her eyes. “It’s hardly my fault you have yet to find a respectable suitor, Castiel.” She said huffily. “Seven years away at university, you’d think you’d have found _someone_ who catches your eye. What about that lovely boy Inias, from your sophomore year?”

“Inias was wonderful, Mother, but he and I wanted very different things in life.” Castiel reminded her. “And for starters, we were never dating. Inias was my roommate, not my partner.”

Castiel didn’t bother to inform his mother that Inias was both aromantic and asexual; he knew she would have no idea what either of those terms means, and he wasn’t in the mood to try and explain them to someone as complicated and who asked as complicated questions as his mother. He and Inias were good friends, and good roommates, but never would have been compatible any further than that. 

Castiel had casually dated several people during his time in university, though he had never told his mother that. Despite the fact that it’s _2020,_ she was and had always been deeply traditional, and had she found out, she would have done exactly what she’s doing now: pestering the fuck out of him. Castiel had chosen to go to a university in New York City, and it had been his saving grace. Castiel loved his country, of course he did; but his life as a prince of Caelum is sometimes stifling, especially at 18 years old when he’d had the entire world at his feet and couldn’t wait to see it all. Going away for university had been the only way he had seen to get away from it all, to see what life was like somewhere away from his tiny corner of the world, to finally, finally be just another face in the crowd. He’d loved that, the anonymity of it all, of being able to go out with his friends and no one recognized him, no one treated him differently for being the prince. He was just Castiel to them. 

But all of that was over. 

Castiel sighed again and looked out the plane window. They’d land in Caelum in just thirty minutes, and then, Castiel’s easy, normal university life would end, and his role as the second Prince of Caelum would begin a new chapter.

Which included the point his mother continued to prattle on about.

“Well, regardless, you _are_ expected to find someone within the next year.” Naomi intones. “Caelumean traditional law states that–“

“I have to marry before my twenty sixth birthday. I _know_ , Mother.” Castiel snapped. 

His mother’s eyes narrowed.

“Castiel,” She said sternly, voice clipped in that all too familiar way of hers. “I understand you’re put out by all of this. But it’s _tradition._ Your brother was married before his twenty sixth birthday, your father and I were married by your father’s twenty sixth birthday, as was his mother before him, and her father before her, and his father before him, all spanning back 300 years.”

“I’m not the heir, I’m just the spare, Mother.” Castiel said. “Why does this frankly outdated and borderline asinine tradition have to apply to me too?”

Naomi huffs. “Honestly, Castiel,” She sniffed, dismissively, in the way she did when she was particularly put out by Castiel’s inherent need to question the world around him and the rules therein. “Why must you make this more difficult than it has to be? There are several eligible suitors for you to choose from. It needn’t be this hard.”

Castiel shook his head. He knew arguing with his mother was a fruitless endeavor, and would get him nowhere but even more frustrated than he already was. He looked out the window at the passing land below, at the lush fields and shining, reflective bodies of water. As a child, Castiel had always dreamt of flight; he can still remember being seven years old, and praying to grow wings, so he could fly whenever and wherever he wanted. He hadn’t been old enough to understand that even though the name of their kingdom literally translated to “heaven,” neither he nor anyone else in the kingdom were angels, or anything but human. It had been disappointing, and his father had arranged to have him taken in a small aircraft to cheer him up. It had, if only a little. 

“Your Majesties,” the flight attendant - a pretty young woman named Lydia - smiled as she stepped into the cabin where Castiel and his mother were sitting. “We are about to descend into Caelum. If you wouldn’t mind securing your seatbelts, that would be wonderful.” 

“Thank you, Lydia.” Naomi nodded to her, dismissing her without having to say so.

“Of course, Your Grace.” Lydia nodded back respectfully and walked back through the curtain at the front of the plane, no doubt to prepare for landing. 

Castiel pulled the seatbelt straps from the sides of his chair, and secured it tightly across his lap. Across from him, he saw his mother doing the same. She smoothed her finger across the nylon and Castiel watched her nose wrinkle slightly; his mother was never a fan of synthetic fibers, and Castiel found this entirely ridiculous, especially regarding plane seatbelts. Still, he knew better than to say a word at the look of disdain on her face as she tightened the straps. 

“Regardless of your feelings towards your impending engagement,” Naomi said a few moments later. “Are you, at the very least, looking forward to being home, Castiel?” 

“I have missed it.” Castiel admitted. He had especially missed the summers here; the summers in the city had been scorching, and the heat had caused the smell of the garbage on the curbs and in the dumpsters to fester. It had been the one thing he had not loved about New York. The summers of Caelum were mild and usually very comfortable. 

He had also missed his older brother, Gabriel, fiercely. Despite Gabriel being nearly six years older than Castiel, the two had always been very close, despite the fact that they were polar opposites. Where Castiel was quiet, reserved, and somewhat serious, Gabriel was loud, vivacious, and full of energy. Gabriel always had a trick up his sleeve, their father affectionately calling him “the trickster” as far back as Castiel could remember; if something odd or some strange bit of bad luck befell a palace worker, it was almost guaranteed to have been the work of the Crown Prince, without a doubt. Castiel smiles as he remembers the time Gabriel had released a single cricket into the library where they had received private tutoring for much of their childhood. Their tutor, a sniveling, whiny-voiced man named Marv, had damn near had a nervous breakdown, and had nearly pulled every book from the shelves in an attempt to find the wayward insect, if only to make the madness stop. Castiel and Gabriel still laughed at the color Marv’s face had turned when Naomi had walked into to find him tearing apart the royal library. 

The last time Castiel had seen his brother had been just under two years ago, when Gabriel had flown out to New York to visit him shortly after the second anniversary of Kali’s death. Gabriel and Kali had met quite by accident at a hotel called _The Elysian Fields_ , where they’d both been staying, Kali for a skiing trip, and Gabriel for a meeting with a non-profit he was interested in funding that helped underprivileged children go to summer camps. It had been, as Gabriel had put it, love at first sight, and they’d hit it off, spending every free moment they’d had together for the remainder of their respective trips, and they’d begun dating shortly thereafter. They’d married three years later, in a huge cathedral wedding with thousands of attendees, and Castiel had been honored to be the best man. 

Gabriel was never the same after Kali’s death. Castiel still mourned the death of his beloved sister-in-law, whom everyone had adored; there wasn’t a soul in Caelum who had not loved her, and the reality that she would never be Queen had been a hard pill to swallow for the entire kingdom. They had all shared in the devastation her death had brought, but no one had taken it harder than Gabriel, especially after the doctor had broken the news that Kali had been six weeks pregnant at the time of her untimely death. 

What was worse, Kali’s death had been a complete and utter accident. She had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time when a toddler, chasing the family cat onto the sixth storey balcony of an apartment building, had knocked over a table, and a heavy, cast iron bird statuette had plummeted over the railing, and had hit the passing princess below in the head. 

Kali had been killed instantly, and had suffered no pain, the doctor had told them.

It wasn’t until the mortician had begun preparing for the body to be embalmed some days later that it was discovered she’d been pregnant. 

Castiel had never witnessed agony like that before, the way his brother, who had been nigh on catatonic since Castiel had arrived back in Caelum on the first plane out, had completely and utterly shattered when he discovered that he’d not only lost his wife, his soulmate, and his Queen, but his child too.

Gabriel’s visit to New York had been fun, with Gabriel’s cheerful banter and playful antics making it feel almost like the way it used to be, and there were several times during the visit that Castiel had caught himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, things could be, that maybe there was hope his brother would be alright after all. But then they would walk past someone in Central Park that looked like Kali, or they’d see an advertisement for the perfume Kali had worn, or a man would run through the grass with a child about the age Gabriel and Kali’s would have been, laughing and smiling, and Castiel would see the way Gabriel would shrivel, would absolutely look to be on the verge of tears, and he realized very suddenly, that nothing - especially Gabriel - would ever be the same, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it and pretend. 

Still, he and Gabriel talked frequently, with near daily texts and the odd phone call, in particular when Gabe would get drunk with his friend (and bodyguard) Luke. Castiel had definitely missed living with his brother, and seeing him more frequently would not be unwelcome, the daunting publicity and obligations that came with coming home notwithstanding.

“Well,” Naomi smiled. “Everyone is certainly proud of everything you accomplished while at university, but we’ve missed you terribly. It’s been hard to be without you all these years, and you visited so infrequently!” His mother gave him a disapproving look. “I know that you enjoyed your time in New York, Castiel, but you really should have come home more often. You still have a duty to your kingdom, whether you are the heir or not. It won’t do for your people to feel you’ve run off and abandoned them, would it?”

“No, Mother.” Castiel swallowed around the annoyed knot in his throat. He knew that challenging his mother would get him nowhere but in her bad graces, and despite their somewhat strained relationship - Naomi had never been exactly what you’d call the mothering type - he still did not want his first night home to be tense and filled with hostile silence. 

“Of course, you understand that with everyone being excited for your return, you have several publicity events you should start to prepare for. There are charity events you will be expected to attend, banquets, parties, the like. I’ve arranged an interview for you in the next two weeks with the local news station, and of course there will be arrangements for potential suitors to visit. I’ve already arranged for Mr. Crowley to tailor a new suit for you, so you’ll have to go down to his shop tomorrow afternoon for a fitting. I’ve also asked Hannah to take over as your PA, so that you’ll be able to keep track of everything accordingly. I have already arranged for her to seek out the most prospective and eligible suitors and send word that you are looking for a match. I’ve already informed her that gender is not an issue, what with your...what was the term you used again?”

“The word you’re looking for is pansexual, Mother.” Castiel informed her. “It means that I am utterly indifferent to the sex or gender identity of those I am attracted to.” 

“Yes, that.” Naomi smiled. “Honestly, I must say, Castiel, that your open preferences make this work so much easier.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Castiel deadpanned. At the very least, his mother had hardly batted an eye when he had come out as pansexual the summer after his freshman year of college. If anything, she’d been delighted; in Naomi’s eyes, the fact that Castiel was not as picky about the sex or gender of his future spouse made Naomi’s matchmaking all the more broad, opened better opportunities for a good match that may not have been an option should the choices have been down to one gender or another. 

Castiel could not help but feel as though a noose had been placed around his neck, and his mother was the one in line to kick the stool from beneath his feet. 

The plane dipped, and Castiel looked out the window to watch as the Caelum ground came up to greet him in a single, jolting moment, bringing his future - with all its inevitable unknowableness - abruptly with it. 

***

Gabriel was waiting for them by the unmarked cars parked on the tarmac when Castiel and Naomi descended from the plane onto Caelumean soil, his back against the door, ankles and arms crossed, trademark grin on his face. It was good to see Gabriel smile; there had been a time when Castiel had been afraid he’d never see it again. 

“Hey, little brother!” Gabe pushed away from the car and grabbed Castiel in a big bear hug. “Long time, no see!”

“Hello, Gabriel,” Castiel returned warmly, hugging his brother back. “It’s good to see you as well.”

“Are you not going to greet your own mother?” Naomi interjected. Gabriel rolled his eyes but leaned forward to give her a hug. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mom.” He said. 

Naomi released her son, and looked at one of the guards in black suits with earpieces standing behind the vehicle. “If you wouldn’t mind grabbing Prince Castiel’s bags?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” 

“Mother, I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own luggage.” Castiel said.

“Nonsense,” Naomi waved her hand as she ducked into the backseat of the car that would escort her back to the palace. “They’re paid to see to the needs of our family, Castiel. Let them do their jobs.” She closed the door and rolled down the window. “I’ll let the two of you catch up. I’ll see you at home.” She nodded to the driver, and the car began to drive away. 

Castiel sighed and Gabriel laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“Welcome home, little bro,” he said. “I know you’ve missed this.”

Castiel scoffed and opened the door to the car he’d be riding in with Gabriel. “I’d rather ride the subway filled with drunk people on New Years Eve,” he said. “Than listen to her prattle on for one more minute about the fact that I have to get married within the next year.”

Gabriel winced. “Shit,” he swore. “She’s seen you, what, nine hours and she’s already trying to hook you up?”

“Unfortunately.” 

“Not surprised,” Gabriel said. “She’s been talking about it ever since you turned 25. The good news is, you’ve got six months til you’re 26. That’s plenty of time to find somebody moderately tolerable enough to spend the rest of your life with, right?” Gabe winked and dug around in his jacket pocket, producing a worn flask, which he promptly handed over to Castiel.

Castiel laughed. He’d missed his brother. 

“If I’m lucky.” He said, and took a swig from the flask. 

“Mm,” Gabe hummed. “Honestly, some bimbo from downtown would be better than anybody Mom could pair you with. She’s going to do her damnedest to find you the potential spouse with the biggest stick shoved the farthest up their ass. Better brush up on your snobbery, baby bro. Practice your condescending sneer in the mirror in the mornings.”

Castiel nudged his brother in the ribs with his elbow. “Shut up.” 

“Hey, just be glad you aren’t the Crown Prince.” Gabriel smirked. “I dunno if you remember, but Mom tried to hook me up with some crazy chicks.”

“I remember.” Castiel smiled. “I also remember vividly the night you ran into my room and begged me to hide you so that princess from Providence couldn’t find you. What was her name again?”

“I don’t even remember.” Gabe admitted. “I don’t think I ever asked her. She was _nuts,_ Cassie. We went on _one date_ that Mother arranges for us, and all she could talk about the entire time was the colors she wanted for our wedding and what she wanted to name our corgis and our kids.” Gabe fixed him with a terrified look. “She wanted _thirteen_ of them, Castiel. _Thirteen.”_

“Corgis?”

“Kids!”

Castiel hissed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Gabe sat back against the seat and took the flask back from Castiel. “I dunno what I did to deserve finding Kali when I did, but I’m fucking thankful.”

Castiel smiled softly at the mention of his sister in law. 

“I wish it could be that way for me,” he admitted. 

“I don’t know why it can’t be.” Gabe shrugged. 

Castiel gave his brother a look. “Gabriel, I have _six months_ before my 26th birthday. Do you _honestly_ think I could find someone to fall in love with in that time? Someone who would be willing to give up everything and marry me less than a year into our relationship?” He shook his head. “I hate that I have to force this. I remember when you first starting dating Kali. _That’s_ how it should be: a chance for a stroke of fate, of blind luck, organic and allowed to grow into whatever it wants to be.” 

Gabriel snorted. “It’s love, not a zucchini you take to a farmer’s market, bro.” 

Castiel glared. 

“Besides, I never pegged you for a romantic, Cassie.” Gabe teased, and took another hit from the flask. 

“Shut up.” Castiel could feel his ears beginning to burn with embarrassment. “I just happen to think arranged marriages in this day and age are medieval and officious.”

“Uh huh.” Gabe said, sounding entirely unconvinced. “Sure.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “What’s so bad about wanting to marry for love?”

“Not a damn thing.” Gabe looked out the window, and Castiel could see the way he hid the sadness in his eyes by pretending to watch the lights of the city at night as they passed. “That’s exactly why I did it.” 

The air was decidedly much more somber, and Castiel felt a flash of guilt. How could he complain about his upcoming engagement when Gabriel had lost the love of his life? He felt selfish. He’d never been in love before, but Gabriel had. He’d loved her, and he’d lost her. How was any of that fair? 

“I’m sorry, Gabriel.” He said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s okay.” Gabriel turned back and offered a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I’m over it but...it gets better, every day.”

Castiel reached out and put a hand on his brother's knee.

The rest of the ride was filled with small talk between reunited brothers, Castiel telling Gabriel stories from New York, and Gabe returning with details about the Quidditch team he’d help form at the local youth club, where he was the coach. Gabriel liked to grumble about it sometimes, but Castiel knew how much he loved doing the charity and community service events that he did. Gabriel, underneath a carefree, often frivolous exterior, was a soft and caring man. He’d been a good husband, and would have made an excellent father, and Castiel knew, without a doubt, that he would be one of the greatest kings Caelum had ever seen one day. 

The car took a left, and Castiel glanced out his window to see the palace of the royal family rising above Celestine like the Parthenon, lights glittering from the thousands of windows. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at the familiar flutter of excitement in his chest; New York had been wonderful, and Castiel would miss it fiercely, but Caelum was _home_. 

The car pulled up the gates and drove through as the watchman buzzed them in, slowly climbing the hill towards the palace. The car driving Naomi had already arrived, and pages were busy gathering Castiel’s luggage from the trunk and maneuvering it inside. Naomi was nowhere to be seen; she’d likely already gone inside to meet their father and make sure he’d remembered to dress in something other than his favorite bathrobe to welcome his youngest son home. As domineering as she could be, Castiel knew his mother loved his father and all his eccentricities, even the ones that absolutely annoyed her, such as the way he would often lock himself in his study for days on end writing, or his penchant for walking about the palace halls in his pajamas and slippers well into the afternoon, and his preference for being called “Chuck” rather than “Charles,” which she insisted was “much more regal.”

“Looks like mom beat us inside.” Gabe remarked. 

“Probably to make sure Father is presentable.” Castiel smirked. “As if I actually care if he’s dressed to the nines at 10 o’clock at night.”

“I think Mom would make Dad _sleep_ in a suit if she could get away with it.” Gabe said, and Castiel laughed. 

Luke stopped the car, and another guard stepped forward to open the back door. Castiel steppes out, followed closely by Gabe. 

“Welcome home, Your Royal Highness.” A guard smiled at him. 

“Thank you.” Castiel said, and turned towards the looming palace before him. He sighed, the weight of everything barreling down on him at once, and Gabriel slung an arm around his shoulders. 

“C’mon,” He said. “Let’s go see Pops. He’s been excited to see you.”

Castiel followed his brother inside, into the familiar plush surroundings of the palace. They walked straight through the ornately decorated hallways until they reached their father’s study, where the door was slightly ajar. Gabe used to knuckles to knock against the thick mahogany. 

“Come in!” The cheerful voice of their father called, and they slipped inside. 

King Charles Shurley of Caelum, first of his name, was not what most people expected upon meeting him for the first time. He was on the shorter side - Gabriel had inherited that from him - and donned a short and scruffy salt and pepper beard. He preferred soft clothes any day to suits or semi-formal clothes, and was seen in his flannel pajama pants more often than not if he could get away with it. He was rather quiet and a bit of an anxious person most days, and an absolute wreck on his worst. But he was kind, and loved to laugh, and was a doting father and husband. He and Naomi were polar opposites, and yet somehow, they’d managed to build a strong bond and sleep in the same bed every night for over thirty years without smothering the other with a pillow. 

“Castiel!” He greeted jovially and gave his son a hug, which Castiel returned. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too, Father.” Castiel smiled.

“You doing okay? Your flight alright?”

“Everything was good, Father, thank you.” 

“It’s good to have you home, Castiel. We’ve all missed you.” Chuck said and clapped Castiel on the back as they pulled apart. He leaned in closer and whispered, “Your mother annoy the shit out of you yet?”

“Charles!” Naomi gasped. 

Chuck winced. “Sorry, dear.”

Naomi glared. “I only nag because I care.” She said. “I want what’s best for Castiel, and I wish all of you would take the issue at hand much more seriously.” 

“Sorry, Mother.” Castiel apologized, though he didn’t feel sorry. 

“It’s all in good fun, Ma.” Gabe grinned. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Naomi humphed. “You don’t seem to understand the importance of this issue. Castiel must find a suitable match within six months. I would have begun preparations for suitors to call before, but he was still finishing his Masters in New York, and it wouldn’t do to find suitors for an absent prince.”

“Mom, no one calls them suitors anymore.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Just call them significant others like everybody else.” 

“Whatever they call them,” Naomi said. “Castiel must begin the process of meeting and entertaining them immediately.” 

“Naomi, lighten up.” Chuck chided gently. “Let the boy settle in; he hasn’t been home in years. Give him time to readjust to life in Caelum, and then we’ll talk about suitors or significant others or swipers or whatever they’re calling them these days.” 

Naomi rounded on her husband and fixed him with a fierce stare. “Castiel has _six months_ to find an auspicious suitor, Charles. And on top of that, he’s expected to appear for publicity hearings and outings, he must establish his community ties through charity events and the Art Gala at the end of June, as well as hospital and youth center visits, and needs to begin preparations for managing the estate he’ll inherit after his marriage, not to mention the ties he will have to forge when a match is made.” 

“Naomi,” Chuck took his wife by the shoulders. “Calm down. Let Castiel settle in first. He will be no good to anybody if he’s burnt out after only twenty four hours. Let him breathe a little, honey.” 

Castiel felt a rush of appreciation for his father. It was nice to know that, no matter what, he had his support in this. He felt Gabe nudge his shoulder, reminding him he had his back, too. 

“Everything will fall into place.” Chuck continued. “If you keep trying to force everything on him at once, it will be nothing but chaos. Let him go at his own pace. He might surprise you.” Chuck smiled warmly at Castiel over his wife’s shoulder. 

“Fine,” Naomi relented. “I’ll...try to back off a bit. But only for a few days, until you’re settled Castiel. Then it’s back to business.” 

“Of course.” Castiel said. “I would expect nothing less.” 

“Now, I’m sure Castiel is tired from his long trip, and would probably like to go to bed.” Chuck said. 

Naomi sighed and massaged her temple with her hand. “Yes, you’re right.” She looked at her youngest son. “Your room is as you left it last, Castiel. I had the attendants put fresh sheets on your bed, and you’ll find a fresh log in the fireplace should you choose to light it, but it is otherwise untouched. I had the pages take your luggage there.” 

Castiel nodded. “Thank you.” He said. He forced a smile, and nodded to his parents. “Goodnight, Mother. Father.” 

“Night, son.” Chuck smiled. “It really is good to have you back.” 

Gabriel slung his arm around Cas’s shoulders. 

“C’mon, bro, I’ll walk you out.” He said. He gave their parents a short salute. “Night, ‘rents.” 

“Goodnight, Gabriel.” Naomi said, a disapproving lilt to her tone. “Goodnight, Castiel.” 

Gabe steered them down the hall, and Castiel shoved his arm off of his shoulders, feeling too boxed in all of a sudden. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, trying to stave off the migraine he could feel beginning to form at the base of his skull. 

“It’ll be okay, Cassie.” Gabriel said, his voice soft and soothing. “Besides, so what if you don’t find anybody and break tradition? Traditions get broken all the time.” 

“Not a _royal tradition_ that dates back hundreds of years, Gabriel!” Castiel snapped. “I would never disgrace our family like that!” 

“Whoa, whoa, who said anything about disgracing anybody?” Gabe held up his hands. “Calm your tits, baby bro. It’ll be fine. If anybody’s gonna disgrace this family, it’s gonna be me.” 

“What?” Castiel looked at his brother. “You’ll make a great King one day, Gabriel.”

“Meh,” Gabriels shrugged. “You know I have my critics out there. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, how many big words I use in my speeches and whatnot, there are always gonna be those that think I’m nothing but a big doofus.” 

“No one thinks that, Gabriel.” Castiel assured him. “The people of Caelum adore you. All Kings will have their naysayers, but you’re warm, accepting, and love your kingdom. You’re a good diplomat. You couldn’t bring shame to our family if you tried.” 

Gabriel gave him a half smile. “Well, I feel the same way about you, little brother. So maybe we should just believe in each other, and call it good. Yeah?” 

Castiel smiled back. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Gabriel clasped his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and gave him a serious stare. 

“I’m serious.” He said. “If you need anything, just let me know. I can get you a stripper up in here in ten minutes flat without Dad _or_ Mom ever finding out. Trust me.” 

Castiel shook his head. “Strippers will not be necessary,” he said. “But thank you, Gabriel. If I need to talk, I will come to you.” 

Gabriel patted his shoulder. “Good deal.” He said. “Night, bro.” 

“Night, Gabriel.” 

Gabe let go of his shoulder, and shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, whistling a song quietly as he walked away towards his own room in the wing adjacent. Castiel watched as he rounded the corner, and then ducked into his own room, leaning against the closed door and let out a much needed breath. 

Naomi had been telling the truth; nothing in Castiel’s bedroom had been disturbed since the last time he’d laid eyes on it, save for a few minor adjustments to the drapes to reflect the seasonal weather. His bed was plush and inviting, and Castiel was looking forward to sinking into its softness and let it allay the weariness setting into his bones. 

But he couldn’t deny the buzzing in his bones, the way his very being as vibrating with a need he couldn’t quite pin down.

He was restless. 

Castiel walked over to the window and pushed back the curtain, looking out onto the city of Celestine and the lights as the city’s nightlife came alive below them. Castiel had loved New York at night; the lights, the sounds, the smells, everything about it had absolutely invigorated him, especially when he’d first arrived in the city, on his own and free for the first time in his life. He sighed and turned away, walking over to the tall bookshelf in the corner. He ran his fingers over the familiar spines and titles, smiling when he found some of them to be quite dusty; his mother would be furious to know the housekeepers had missed a spot, but Castiel relished in this little bit of imperfection. It suddenly made everything around him seem less stifling. 

A knock at the door snapped Castiel out of his reverie, and he gently replaced the book and walked to open the door. His mother stood on the other side, hands folded neatly in front of her. She was still wearing her business suit, and her hair was still completely in place. It had been a rare sight to see his mother appear anything less than emaculate, but Castiel could still remember one summer when she’d worn her hair down on a trip to the beach when he was a young boy. He remembered thinking she was so much prettier when she wasn’t flawless. 

“Mother,” he greeted. 

“Hello, Castiel.” Naomi said. “May I come in?” 

Castiel stepped aside to allow his mother entry. 

“I hope you find your rooms to your approval.” She said, and Castiel glanced at the dusty bookcase out the corner of his eye. 

“Yes, thank you.” He said. 

Naomi smiled at him. 

“I wanted to stop by and...apologize for the awkwardness of the situation we find ourselves in.” She said, and for a moment, Castiel’s believed she really was sorry. “I know this has been difficult for you, but you must understand. These traditions have kept our kingdom strong for generations. They ensure that our family will carry on, will be able to continue along a strong line.”

Castiel’s sighed and dropped into one of the chairs. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Mother, you can spin this any way you want. I understand it’s tradition, and you know I’d never do anything to disgrace our family, but you have to understand how stressful this is for me. Surely you recognize how anachronistic all of this is.”

Naomi approached him and sat next to him, laying a hand on his knee. 

“Castiel, I am not doing this to upset you. I am doing this because you have been given ample time to do it on your own, and you have not.”

“You can’t force me to love someone I don’t, Mother!” Castiel threw his hands up in indignation. 

“I’m doing no such thing.” Naomi said coolly. “If you recall, I’m not forcing anyone on you, Castiel. I’m merely pointing you in the direction of suitors that could benefit everyone in the long run. You are being given the choice. But, if you _haven’t_ made a decision by the time your 26th birthday rolls about, you will leave us with no alternative but to choose for you. You understand that, don’t you?”

Castiel did. And he hated every moment of it. He cursed his sense of duty to its very core. He sometimes wished he could rip it out and fall from grace, like an angel falling from heaven. 

“Yes, Mother.” He said quietly.

Naomi smiled a tight lipped smile, and for a moment, Castiel thought he saw pity in her eyes. She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, like she used to do when he was very young. 

“I know this is difficult for you.” She said. “And I know that you must think me callous. But Castiel, I only want what’s best for you. Please believe that.” She stood and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Traditions survive because they _work_ , Castiel. They exist for a reason. Without our traditions, the very foundations of our culture would crumble. It is our job as the leaders of our kingdom to uphold those traditions, to keep the cornerstones of our cultural pride strong. It is a burden all royals must bear, love.” She smoothed his hair one more time and smiled. “Everything will be alright, Castiel. Get some sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

She smiled one last time, and walked back towards the door. She paused at the bookcase, and swiped a finger across the top, rubbing it between her thumb. She looked at the dust in disdain and sighed, and then walked out the door, leaving Castiel alone. 

Castiel let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding the moment the door clicked shut. He dragged a hand through his hair and down his face, massaging his left temple where he could feel the beginnings of a headache brewing. He made his way over to his bed and flopped down on the bed, closing his eyes. 

In New York, Castiel had taken to meditation to help him find balance in his everyday life at university. He had found it to be highly influential, and extremely cathartic. It had become a way for him to unwind, to sort through his thoughts, to center himself. He began to school his breathing, helping him slip further into a meditative state. He laid on his bed, hands folded atop his stomach, and allowed himself to just _exist_ for the first time since he’d step foot on Caelumean soil.

He was abruptly brought out of his meditation some ten minutes later, however, to the very annoying chime of his cell phone, alerting him to the fact that he had a text message. 

Castiel sighed and opened his eyes, fishing through his pocket. His phone was lit up with over a dozen text messages, all from his friends in New York wishing him well, and a safe flight home. These were several hours old however; the cause of the offending chime was a text from his friend Balthazar. 

BALTHAZAR: Are you even still alive? Did you gorge yourself on too many first class plane peanuts and falk into a coma? Have you already forgotten all about me? 

CASTIEL: Sorry. It’s been a whirlwind since I touched down. I just got your messages. 

BALTHAZAR: He lives! 

BALTHAZAR: Have you considered matricide yet? 

Castiel snorted. 

CASTIEL: Not yet. But there’s still time.

BALTHAZAR: Say the word, darling, and I’ll hop a flight with a shovel to help you bury the body. 

CASTIEL: I doubt the TSA would let you on a plane with a shovel.

BALTHAZAR: Fine, a child’s plastic pail and spade. It will get the job done, it will just take quite a deal longer.

BALTHAZAR: How are you feeling? 

CASTIEL: Like I could drink an entire liquor store.

BALTHAZAR: That’s always an option.

BALTHAZAR: So is weed. 

CASTIEL: Then there would be no need for your child’s sand shovel because she would die of a heart attack right there if she knew I’d smoked weed in New York.

BALTHAZAR: Well then just sneak out and find a bar. Have a couple drinks, pop back home.

CASTIEL: Caelum is smaller than New York, Balt. I’ll be recognized for sure.

BALTHAZAR: So? You’re the prince! That means free drinks!

CASTIEL: It also means the press and paparazzi could spot me.

BALTHAZAR: So find one outside their radar. Go to a little dive bar or something off the beaten path that no one would suspect away from your castle. Swim across the moat, wear that ridiculous trench coat you’re so fond of, grab an old baseball cap, pop on a pair of sunglasses, and say your name is Steve. No one will know. 

CASTIEL: We don’t have a moat. And it’s not a castle. 

BALTHAZAR: Semantics, darling. 

BALTHAZAR: I’m serious, tho. Go find yourself a bar for a few hours. Find yourself a stripper named Candy or Chastity or Charity or something else starting with C and get a lap dance. Blow off some steam. Nobody has to know.

CASTIEL: You’re as bad as Gabriel.

BALTHAZAR: You only say that because you know I’m right.

BALTHAZAR: Seriously, tho, it’s like, what, midnight over there? Is anyone else awake?

CASTIEL: Gabe probably. My mother bid me goodnight half an hour ago. 

BALTHAZAR: See? Nobody will know. Seriously, Cassie, a drink will make you feel better. 

Balthazar was right, of course. It _would_ make him feel better. 

Deciding not to overthink it, Castiel texted Gabriel, asking if he was awake. If anyone could get him out of the palace, it would be his brother. 

Less than five minutes after he’d sent the text, just as Castiel was shifting through his luggage to find the most nondescript clothes he could, there was a swift series of knocks at the door, and Gabriel let himself in. 

“Finally decided to take me up on my stripper offer?” He asked. 

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“No.” He said. “But I do need your help. Do you know of any bars around here that won’t bring too much attention to myself?”

Gabe grinned. 

“Hell yeah, I do!” He exclaimed. “Used to sneak out there all the time. Little place called the Roadhouse, over on Pontiac Street in the Lawrence District.”

Castiel pulled his trench coat on.

“Can you take me?”

Gabriel shook his head. 

“If you’re wanting to keep a low profile, I don’t think so. They know who I am there, after all.” he said. “But I’ll call you a cab.”

“I should probably go into town for them to pick me up.” Castiel muses. “The last thing we want is for Mother to find out I left or for someone who might be watching the gates for a good juicy story about the prince coming home only to sneak out.” 

“I think I can help with that.” Gabriel grinned. “I can get you out the same way I can get strippers in.”

Castiel regraded his trickster brother with a fine degree of scrutiny. 

“If it involves sliding down a laundry chute, I’m out.” He said.

Gabe slung his arm around his neck. “Hey, not all my ideas are hairbrained,” he said. 

Castiel was not sure why he believed his brother, but he allowed him to lead him from his room and down the hall nonetheless. 

***

In the end, Gabe did not make Castiel slide down a laundry chute, but instead simply snuck him out the back staff entrance. 

Castiel winced as he peeled the fake mustache from his skin, the adhesive surprisingly strong for what looked like a large bushy caterpillar that had decided to take up residence on his upper lip. Gabe had unceremoniously slapped it on him right before he’d ruffled his hair and pushed him out the door, telling him it would “add to his mystique,” whatever that meant in Gabriel terms. 

Castiel, not one to litter, pocketed the mustache and tucked his chin to his chest as he walked briskly away from the palace into the night. He only had ten minutes to get to the street corner Gabe had designated as the place where his cab service would pick him up; luckily Castiel knew exactly where he was going. 

He got to the corner of 18th and September St. just in time to see a grey Prius pull up to the curb. Castiel jogged towards it, and a young woman with purple hair leaned out of the window. 

“Emmanuel Novak?” She asked. 

Castiel nodded. It was the name Gabriel had given when he’d made the call. 

“That’s me.” 

“I’m Haley. Get in!” She smiled. 

Castiel slid into the back seat and buckled his seat belt. Haley turned slightly in the front seat to get a better view of him. 

“So where we headed?”

“2008 Pontiac Street,” Castiel instructed. 

Haley plugged the information into her GPS on the dashboard, and began driving, turning the corner and driving them away from the palace. Castiel turned to watch as it got farther and farther away from view as they drove farther into Celestine. 

“So,” Haley said conversationally, glancing into the rearview mirror. “You from around here, or…?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “I grew up here.” 

“Same.” Haley said. “So what brings you out this late at night, Mr. Novak?” 

“Just need to unwind is all.” He answered. 

“Stress at work?” Haley asked, and Castiel knew she was looking at the dress clothes underneath his trench coat. Castiel huffed out a laugh. 

“Something like that.” He said. 

“What do you do?”

Castiel paused. “Let’s just say I work in the family business, and there are certain things that are expected of me that I am not sure I am able to fulfill.” 

“Yeah, I get it.” Haley said, stopping at a red light. “I mean, I’m only 19 and all that shit, but my parents are pressuring me to quit driving and go to university. I dunno how to tell them that university just isn’t for me. I’d rather be doing this.” 

“Well,” Castiel said slowly. “You are a good driver.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Haley said. “It’s not what I wanna do for the rest of my life, but I like it. And besides, my parents want me to go to school to be a lawyer or a doctor or a scientist. And I dunno how to tell them that...that’s just now me.” 

“Well, what _is_ ‘you’?” 

“Art.” Haley answered. “I like to paint and sculpt and draw. I dunno, but they think that’s a deadend career with no prospects. They’d never agree to let me go to school for that.” 

“If that’s what you want to do, then you should do it.” Castiel said. “Nevermind what they say. It is your life, and you should be able to live it however you see fit.” 

Haley pulled the car up alongside a curb and looked back at him. She smiled. 

“I could say the same to you.” She said. “You give good advice. Have you ever thought about following it yourself?” 

Castiel smiled sadly. “I’m afraid that what’s expected of me is much more complicated.” He said. He looked out the window. “Have we arrived.” 

“If my GPS is right, yeah.” She said. 

Castiel unbuckled his seatbelt and reached into his trench pocket for his wallet. “What do I owe you?” 

“$25.00.” Haley said. 

Castiel frowned. “That can’t be right, you drove much farther than just a few miles.” 

Haley shrugged. “Consider your advice an advanced payment.” She said. 

Castiel smiled and pulled two twenties from his wallet and handed them to her. 

“Thank you.” He said. “Good luck, Haley.” 

“Thanks, Emmanuel.” She said. 

Castiel climbed out of the car, and straightened his trench coat. Just before she drove off, Haley rolled down the window and said, 

“Hey, by the way, has anybody ever told you you look a lot like the prince?” 

Castiel laughed. “I get that all the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the crazy lady that wanted 14 kids and corgis was Becky. Just so everyone knows. 
> 
> (Also, I have a corgi (his name is Argo and I adore him), and I assure you, 14 is entirely too few!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds that the Roadhouse is not what he was expecting, and the bartender is something else entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how is quarantine treating everyone? I hope everyone is safe and well. 💙

The Roadhouse was, to put it lightly, not what Castiel had been expecting. 

What he’d expected had been a dive bar, something more on par with what he’d gotten accustomed to in New York; something eclectic, like a converted garage, or something out of the way, even in a basement with ambient lighting. But instead what sat before him was a nondescript building made of brick with a minimalistic facade. There was nothing very decorative whatsoever, save for the neon sign above the door that read “Roadhouse” in looping green letters. Castiel was surprised the sign was even neon, but he supposed it would need to be, what with the lack of distinguishing features otherwise. 

It was easy to see why Gabe liked this particular bar, from just the outside. It was almost entirely incognito, not at all what anyone would expect a prince to patronize. It would be easy for Gabe to slip inside unnoticed, or slip inside and get away from any prying eyes, and disappear. Castiel found that he liked that idea; it was, after all, one of his favorite things about New York.

Castiel took a deep breath and stepped up to the door, walking inside. 

Inside was not much different than the outside; it was not much different than any other bar Castiel had ever been to. In all honesty, Castiel couldn’t really find anything that...spectacular about it. The walls were painted a warm grey color, and cozy booths lined the left wall, while the rest of the space was filled with wooden tables with two to four chairs each. The bar itself was in the far end of the room, with Edison light bulbs hanging asymmetrically from the ceiling along its length, casting a warm golden glow over a polished black countertop. In an adjacent room to his right, Castiel could see two pool tables, both occupied, one by a group of guys, and the other by what appeared to be a man with a mullet napping on top of the table. 

Castiel raised an eyebrow, but decided not to push the question. Guy was likely drunk.

The bar was not busy, which Castiel supposed he could believe, considering it was a Thursday night. A couple was cozied up into one of the booths, and a few people sat at the bar, though not next to one another, while a middle aged woman sat alone at a table with her laptop open. A young woman with blonde hair came over and placed a basket of fries next to her, and she smiled. 

The young woman turned and looked at Castiel. 

“Sit anywhere you like.” She said kindly. 

“Thank you.” Castiel nodded at her and made his way towards the bar. He selected the stool the farthest from the others, at the end of the bar. There was nobody behind the bar, so Castiel simply shrugged off his trench coat and sat it on the stool next to his and pulled out his phone. Gabe had texted him, asking if he’d made it, and he sent him a quick reply. 

GABRIEL: Awesome. By the way, the bartender there is—

Castiel wasn’t able to read the rest of the text, because at that moment, the blonde waitress he’d seen at the door walked up and sighed loudly, causing Castiel to look up. The girl wasn’t looking at him, however, she was looking at the empty bar. 

“Jesus Christ, I need to get a beeper for that man, I swear to God!” She said exasperatedly. She walked behind the bar and threw down her towel, and smiled at Castiel. “Sorry about your wait, sir. What can I get you?”

“Scotch, whatever you’ve got.” 

“Glenlivet good? I had a bachelor party in here earlier today, bought out all my good scotch.” 

“Glenlivet is fine.” Castiel assured her. “Two fingers.” 

The girl was fast. A tumbler with two fingers worth of gold liquid was in front of him before Castiel even had time to open his mouth to speak again. 

“Thank you.” He said, and sipped the scotch, relishing in the weight of the flavor on his tongue and the burn in his throat. The waitress had started busting herself with counting money she pulled from her apron, and more than once Castiel caught her looking at him out the corner of her eye. 

“Hey, weird question—“ she started, but the sound of a door opening somewhere caught the girl’s attention, and she looked over Castiel’s shoulder to the swinging door Castiel behind him that he had assumed led to the kitchen. 

“It’s about time!” The waitress groused, hands on her hips. Castiel took another swig at his whiskey. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Calm your tits, Jo,” a deep male voice chided, and it was hard to miss the affection there. “I was just gettin’ some more napkins from the back.”

“You could have told me where you were going!” The waitress - Jo - said. “If I’m gonna be doing your job for you, I better get a cut of the tips!”

The man behind him laughed. Castiel felt a rush of warmth at the sound of it; that laugh sounded  _ incredible.  _ As though it had known the hardest of days and still managed to find joy. Unable to help himself, Castiel finally looked over his shoulder to get a look at who the laugh belonged to. 

Behind him was a man about his age, with sandy brown hair and the greenest pair of eyes Castiel had ever seen. He was tall, not much taller than Castiel, and wearing a purple flannel over a pair of worn jeans, the left knee of which was beginning to fray. 

But what really took Castiel’s breath away was his smile. It was a smile to rival the laugh that accompanied it; warm and joyful, with just a hint of mischief. It lit up the room, and suddenly Castiel felt his chest burn, and he knew it wasn’t from the whiskey. 

Castiel didn’t know if he believed in love at first sight, even if he’d always fancied the idea that it could be true. Gabe and Kali has been the closest he’d ever seen it in real life, but there had always been a healthy degree of skepticism. And while this moment was not at all what Castiel would call love at first sight, it was, without a doubt, a jolt of attraction so sharp it felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. 

The man walked around behind the counter, and placed a sleeve of napkins on the bar.

“C’mon Jo, you know you can’t stay mad at me.” He smiled charmingly at Jo, who rolled her eyes. 

“Can it,” she said. “Your puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me. They didn’t work when we were kids and they aren’t gonna work now.” 

The man shrugged. “Worth a shot.” 

Jo swatted him with a towel. “Get to work.” She said, but a smile broke across her face. “I think this guy could use another drink.”

“You got it.” The guy turned that fantastic smile towards Castiel, who, in that moment, had never felt more like a deer in headlights. “Whatcha drinkin’?”

“Glenlevit,” Castiel said. “Two fingers.” He slid his glass towards the bartender, hoping he couldn’t see the blush Castiel knew was peaking on his ears in the warm glow of the Edison bulbs.

“Hmm, good choice.” The bartender said. “I’m more of a Jack Daniels and craft beer guy myself, but Glenlevit’s a good scotch.”

The man gently set the tumbler back in front of Castiel, who picked it up with a nod of thanks. He went back to sipping his drink while he admired the bartender above the rim of his glass as he worked, folding napkins at the far end of the bar. More than once he almost got caught when the man would move to place stacks of napkins aside, and Castiel would hope that his stance came across as nonchalant.

Eventually his scotch ran out, and Castiel slid it slightly across the bar to get the man’s attention. 

“Could I get another?” He asked. 

The beautiful man didn’t hesitate to grab the tumbler and refill it. He sat it back down, but didn’t move to resume folding napkins, instead opting to lean against his arms on the bar. He studied Castiel seriously.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He asked. 

“Of course.” Castiel replied, taking another sip of scotch. 

“What’s a guy like you doin’ in a place like this?”

Snorting at what he assumed was a rusty pick up line, Castiel grinned slyly and took another sip.

“And what kind of guy am I, exactly?”

“Well, just seems to me a place like this is a little...outside of your usual social circle, wouldn’t you think, your highness?”

Castiel damn near choked on his scotch. 

_ Fuck.  _ He’d been found out. The jig was 1000% up.

Groaning, Castiel lowered his forehead to the bar counter. 

What the hell had he expected, honestly? He’d hoped, sure, that maybe he could get out of the palace and just be  _ normal  _ for a least a few hours, if only to feel at home in his skin again now that he was forced to wear his title on his sleeve. 

But that had been unrealistic. 

“Hey, man,” the bartender said quietly, gently. “You don’t gotta do that. I ain’t gonna tell anybody.” 

Castiel sighed and raised his head.

“I had hoped...well, I honestly don’t know what I hoped.” He said. He looked at the bartender. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Not really,” the man grinned at him. “I’m just real observant is all. You come in here the night the wayward prince comes home lookin’ just like him, and I ain’t ever seen you in here before?” He tapped his temple. “I knew who you were the moment I saw you. But man, I ain’t gonna say nothin’. If you came here to be another no face nobody, that’s your business, and I ain’t in the business of outing anybody.” 

Castiel felt a stab of appreciation hit him square in the chest. 

“Thank you.” He said, and he hoped the relief was evident in his voice. “I truly appreciate it, er...I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

The bartender smiled. “Dean.”

Castiel held out his hand. “Castiel.” 

Dean laughed. “I’m aware.” He said. “Hey, I gotta ‘nother question for you; what’s up with the angel names?” 

Castiel laughed. “My mother.” He said. “She insisted that if our kingdom is named after heaven, then her sons would be named after angels.” 

Dean’s grin never faltered. “Makes sense.”

Castiel hummed and took another sip of scotch. “Well, it does to her, at least.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I was named after my grandmother, Deanna.” Dean shrugged. “My younger brother, Sam, after my grandfather. So I guess I get it, a little.” 

“Gabriel is, of course, named after the archangel if message and promise. That is not too complicated, and it fits well, considering he is the heir. But me, my mother named me after a much less well known angel.” Castiel said. 

“And what about you?”

“Castiel is the angel of Thursday, temperance, and travel.” Castiel explained. “He is sometimes also known as Cassiel, the angel of solitude and tears.”

Dean winced. “Tough break, buddy.” He said sympathetically. “But hey, you’re not alone tonight.” 

Castiel felt another blush threatening to invade his cheeks again. “No, I suppose you’re right.” 

At that moment, Jo came back behind the counter and nudged Dean. 

“Dean, could you please wake up Ash? We have another group just come in and they want the other pool table.” 

Dean leaned to the side to peer into the adjacent room and sighed, shaking his head. 

“The man knows he’s welcome to go up into the apartment upstairs and crash on the couch and he  _ still  _ chooses to sleep on the damn pool table.” He looked at Castiel. “Be right back, Cas.”

Yet another powerful jolt of warmth erupted in Castiel’s chest. Aside from the unflattering  _ Cassie  _ that Gabriel has been calling him all their lives, Castiel had never had a nickname before, and Dean had known him all of fifteen minutes and decided to give him one? 

Castiel decided he liked it.

“So I was right then,” Jo said, and Castiel turned to look at her. “You  _ are  _ Prince Castiel.”

Castiel nodded. “I am.” 

“Thought so.” Jo said. “I don’t mean any disrespect or anything, but what’s a prince like you doing slumming it with the commoners?”

“Hey,” Dean interjected, coming back round the bar. “Here he’s just a regular guy, grabbin’ a drink.” 

Castiel sent what he hoped was a grateful look Dean’s way. 

“Thank you, Dean.” He said. “But to answer your question, I’d much rather be here than in the palace. When I was in New York, no one knew who I was, and I liked it that way. I’d hoped that  _ maybe _ I could...get away from it all, at least for a little while.”

“If you liked New York so much, why’d you come back here? I saw on the news you were considering going on to get your PhD.” Jo asked.

“Simply put, duty. You have to understand, heir or not, I do have a responsibility to my kingdom.” Castsiel explained. “University, for our family at least, has always been about seeing the world, understanding life outside our borders, so that we can return home with a greater sense of humanity. It isn’t about leaving forever. Going away to university is almost completely structured around the inevitable return home.” 

“So like a princey rumspringa?” Dean asked.

Castiel smiled. “Something like that, yes.”

“Well,” Dean started. “How bout this? When you’re here, you’re just Cas. Nothin’ fancy about this place, and if you need a place to unwind, you can always come here.” 

The very idea of coming back here, especially at the prospect of seeing this intriguing and handsome bartender again, was appealing in a way Castiel couldn’t deny. 

“I’d like that.” He said. 

Dean’s smile was almost shy, and Castiel wished he could make him smile like that every day. Coming back here would be well worth getting to see it again. 

He didn’t know what it was about Dean that drew him to him, but Castiel was certain that he looked forward to figuring it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ones a bit short, but I couldn’t figure out a better stopping point. 
> 
> NEXT TIME: Castiel begins to entertain suitors.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel entertains a suitor, and makes a move in his attraction to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Cool, maybe quarantine will give me the chance to get some writing done!  
> Also me: *does not get writing done*
> 
> Sorry for the long wait; this year has been, to say the least, awful. 
> 
> Here's an extra long chapter to make up for it! Enjoy!
> 
> (Also kudos to anyone who gets the “kale is an abomination” joke.)

The next morning found Castiel sitting down to breakfast with his parents and brother. Gabriel had accosted him earlier, demanding to know every gritty detail about his escapade the night before. Castiel had told him that the Roadhouse has been a good choice, but that he’d been recognized. 

“You didn’t wear the mustache I gave you?!” Gabe asked, an almost offended tone to his voice. 

Castiel gave him a look he hoped conveyed his annoyance. “Gabriel, that mustache was an obvious fake, and it made my skin itch.” 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know, that mustache has gotten me into countless bars incognito.” 

“Sure it has.”

“It has!” Gabe insisted. “And anyway, did you get my text? About the bartender?”

Castiel has forgotten all about it, to be honest. 

“I forgot to read it,” he admitted. 

“Typical.” Gabe said. “Anyway, did you get a good look at the bartender? He’s an easy one on the eyes.”

Castiel felt his ears flare again at the mention of Dean. His brother, ever astute, took immediate notice. 

“Oh ho, so you did!” He laughed, slapping Castiel on the shoulder. “What’d you think, then?”

“He was wonderful.” Castiel admitted. “He made me feel...at ease.”

He remembered the easy way he’d fallen into conversation with Dean, who’d charmed Castiel to the point where time had become meaningless. He’d been there well after closing, and Dean had made sure to see him to his taxi as he’d locked the doors and turned off the neon sign, and had smiled, saying he hoped Castiel would come by again. 

At that point, Castiel had been willing to promise the man the moon. 

“Awwww, you’re smitten.” Gabe teased. 

“I am not.” Castiel said firmly. “The fact that I was attracted to him does not mean I’m smitten. I barely know the man.”

And yet, Castiel could not deny that he wanted to get to know him better. That there was something about Dean that intrigued him.

“Besides,” Castiel said with a sigh. “I have to marry within six months, Gabriel.” When Gabriel opened his mouth with a sly grin, he quickly added, “I don’t...I don’t have the luxury of a casual fling, so don’t even suggest it.”

“There’s nothing in the law that says your suitor has to be royal or a member of the nobility, Cassie,” Gabe reminded him. “Kali wasn’t either.”

Not that anyone would have known it. Kali had had such a natural grace, you'd have thought she’d been groomed for publicity her entire life. She had been charming and sweet, and there wasn’t a soul who’d met her who hadn’t loved her. 

“That’s not the point,” Castiel said. “The point is, I can’t afford to be frivolous right now. I need to be taking this seriously.”

“And you can,” Gabe said. “And you can have some fun on the side.”

For some reason, that idea did nothing but make Castiel sick to his stomach. 

“So, Castiel,” Naomi said, snapping Castiel back to attention. “I’ve arranged for Hannah to meet with you today to begin going over the preparations for the coming weeks. I just received word this morning that Lord Talbot will be arriving with his daughter Bela Wednesday afternoon at 1 o’clock. You and I will meet them at the airport, and you will get the chance to get to know Lady Bela a bit better.”

“Isn’t Bela, I dunno…” Gabe said. “Kind of a bitch, though?”

“Gabriel!” Naomi admonished. “We do not speak of others that way!”

Gabriel shrugged. “Last time she was here I literally saw her pull the tail of one of the grounds cats. For no reason. _And_ she’s made kids cry.”

“Regardless, I would expect the Crown Prince to have more tact.” Naomi said. Castiel winced at her vitriolic tone, but Gabriel just took a drink of coffee, completely nonplussed. 

Castiel said nothing, just allowed his mother to continue to prattle on, only half hearing her as she talked about all the events she was having Hannah help him manage. He found his mind straying back to the night before, how freeing it had been to be able to escape for a little while. How for just a moment, he could forget who he was and the weight that he was carrying in his shoulders, the stifling way his marriage was already pressing against his throat, even when it was not yet a reality. 

After breakfast, Castiel excused himself to his room, knowing that the afternoon would be full of obligations and performative photo shoots. He was not looking forward to it in any way; he was drained already, and he hadn’t even stepped foot outside the palace yet. 

His phone pinged, and he saw that Balthazar had sent him a text. 

BALT: So, were the fruits of your labor bountiful last night? 

CASTIEL: I did meet someone, yes.

BALT: Sly dog! I want details! Did you get laid?

CASTIEL: No. We just talked.

BALT: You’re telling me that you went through all that trouble to sneak out to NOT get laid?!?! Cassie, I thought I taught you better.

CASTIEL: I’m sorry but I’m pretty sure I was YOUR wingman, not the other way around.

BALT: Touché. 

BALT: But seriously, details.

Castiel sighed. He knew Balthazar wouldn’t stop pestering until he told him about Dean. For reasons he wasn’t quite sure of, Castiel felt oddly... _protective_ of his interactions with Dean the night before. 

As a prince, everything about Castiel belonged to other people. He belonged to his people, his kingdom, his family honor, his traditions. His words and actions reflected who he was in association with, those he was meant to represent, meant to lead. Everything about his life was scrutinized, put upon a pedestal to be seen and apraised and judged. 

But his time with Dean last night was _his._

Maybe that’s why he was so drawn to the handsome bartender: he made Castiel feel seen, but not _seen._ He made him feel at ease, as though he could be himself without fear of doing or saying the wrong thing. Even though they had only spent a few hours together, just talking, Dean had made Castiel feel normal. He didn’t have to be a prince around Dean; he only needed to be himself.

Some in his life would call him foolish for feeling so strongly after such a brief encounter, but Castiel couldn’t help it.

Gabriel was right; he _was_ smitten. 

He wondered if this is how Gabriel had felt, when he’d first met Kali. Castiel wasn’t about to ask him; he knew that doing so would only confirm Gabe’s suspicions and lead to more teasing. Castiel loved his brother, but even he had limits. 

He resolved that soon, he would go back to the Roadhouse. He just had to get through Bela’s visit first.

***

Bela was just as much of a bitch as he remembered from the brief moments he’d spent with her throughout the functions of his life that had dictated their proximity to each other was inevitable (balls, banquets, the odd dignitary business, the like), but Castiel was convinced she was much, much worse now (in what Gabriel called her “final evolution,” a reference Castiel did not understand) than ever before.

Bela was abrasive on the best of days, and absolutely unbearable on her worst. Today was one of those days, though Castiel couldn’t imagine there were any particularly _good_ days involving Bela. Castiel and Naomi had met Bela and her father at the airport the day prior, Naomi dressing him in what felt like the stiffest suit he owned, and had schooled him the entire ride about how to woo Bela, to which he’d rolled his eyes when she wasn’t looking, instructing him to remember to kiss her hand and offer his arm, as though Castiel needed to be reminded to be a gentleman. 

Things had started out well enough, with Lord Talbot happily engaging him in conversation about New York; as he had a particular interest in fine art, he found Castiel’s recountings of the various museums NYC had to offer fascinating. Castiel had never interacted much with Lord Talbot, but he found that he greatly enjoyed his jovial company over Bela’s any day. 

Bela, on the other hand, complained the entire ride from the airport back to the palace, from everything like the upholstery of the car, to the color the fire hydrants were painted. The one that really grated on Castiel’s nerves, however, was how she would snootily remark on the architecture of Celestine, and make snide comments on the people they saw walking the streets. 

As far as Castiel was concerned, regardless of how his mother felt about how auspicious a match they would make, he had no interest in marrying someone who felt such disdain for his kingdom and people. 

Still, Castiel had been a gentleman the entire evening, just as he’d been raised. The next afternoon found him escorting her through the palace gardens, which she’d seemed to enjoy, at least somewhat. 

“Of course, all of this ivy would have to go,” Bela prattled on, gesturing to a wall covered from ground to roof in verdant creeping ivy. “It’s invasive, and such an eyesore.”

“All of the ivy in this garden is descended from a clipping my great great grandmother brought back from a visit to Japan in 1853.” Castiel informed her. “Ivy is the national plant of Caelum, and is even on our family crest.”

Bela did not look pleased as she rolled her eyes. “Plants on walls invite pests and vermin.” 

“That’s why the palace grounds employs cats.” Castiel said, feeling the beginnings of irritation stir deep in his belly. “The palace is not now nor has it ever been infested with vermin, Lady Bela.” 

Bela just smiled sweetly and wrapped her arms through the one Castiel had offered her. 

“Of course not.” She said, and Castiel could hear the false niceties in her voice. “How about we go into town, hm? I’d love to get a taste of the Caelumean culture.”

She’d said with a particularly predatory tone, and Castiel did not like it one bit. 

But, he was a gentleman, and he had known that with certain suitors would come certain degrees of saving face and keeping appearances. Lady Bela and her father would be leaving tomorrow. He only had to deal with her through this evening, and then he would tell his mother that Bela Talbot was most definitely _off the list._

“I saw a small café on the ride in this morning called _Andrea’s_ , over on Main Street. Perhaps we could stop in there? I’m in need of a half decent cappuccino and I’m guessing you don’t have a Starbucks anywhere around here, so it will have to do. Perhaps closing my eyes will allow for me to imagine it’s halfway decent.”

Castiel gritted his teeth but smiled politely. 

“ _Andrea’s_ sounds lovely. I’d be happy to accompany you there.” He said. He gestured back towards the palace. “Main Street isn’t far from here. We can walk.” 

Bela snorted. “They invented cars for a reason, Prince Castiel.”

Castiel sighed. “You’re right, my apologies.” He said. “I’ll call us a cab.”

“Your family _does_ employ drivers, don’t they? Call one of them. What’s the use in paying for a cab when you have a chauffeur at your beck and call?”

Castiel was seriously beginning to consider the strength of the ivy on the walls around them, and whether or not they'd be strong enough to cut off the air supply of a certain lady…

The two of them walked back into the palace, and Castiel called for Hannah to call one of the drivers to pick them up in ten minutes. Hannah enthusiastically agreed, and Castiel knew she was excited that he and Bela _seemed_ to be hitting it off, if they were going on what appeared to be a date downtown. Castiel wished he could share in her excitement.

The car pulled up in the circle drive in front of the palace about ten minutes later, and both of them climbed in the back. Castiel directed the driver - a sassy, no nonsense woman named Lily, who had been working for Castiel’s family for close to fifteen years - to take them downtown to Main Street. 

The entire ride, Bela hardly looked up from where she was typing away at her phone, even when Castiel attempted to clear his throat to gather her attention. Castiel sighed; this day could not get over with soon enough. 

Lily pulled up to the curb and killed the engine. She looked at Castiel in the rearview mirror. 

“This the place?” She asked. 

“This is it, Lily, thank you.” Castiel confirmed. 

“I’ll wait here for you.” Lily said with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Bela scowled. “Aren’t you going to open the door for us?” 

Lily turned around in her seat, her one good eye blazing with annoyance. 

“You’ve got two working hands, don’t you? You been so spoiled your entire life you don’t know how to open your own door?” 

Bela’s jaw fell open, and Castiel resisted the urge to laugh. He quickly climbed out of the car and hurried to the other side. 

“Well,” Bela said haughtily as she accepted Castiel’s hand to help her from the car. “At least _someone_ has common manners here.”

“You’ll have to forgive Lily,” Castiel said as he gently ushered Bela away from the car towards the café. “She doesn’t have much of a filter.”

“That woman is a disgrace to your family’s good name. You ought to have her fired.” Bela said. 

“Lily Sunder has been a loyal employee of ours for almost fifteen years. She’s an excellent driver, despite her lack of decorum at times.” 

Bela humpfed and didn’t say another word as she sat down in the chair Castiel pulled out for her. She immediately began clicking away at her phone, not even bothering to peer over the small menu stuck in the little holder next to the condiments, though Castiel definitely did. 

He was debating between a club sandwich and something called a fragel when two water cups were placed on the table and a very familiar voice rumbled, 

“Hi, welcome to _Andrea’s_ , what can I get started for you?”

Castiel’s head snapped up so quickly he felt his neck pop once or twice as he looked towards the owner of the voice, only to find Dean standing next to their table, looking just as surprised as Castiel was.

“Hello, Dean.” He greeted. 

“Uh, hey, Cas.” He said. He gave Castiel the same lopsided grin he’d worn at the bar. 

“I didn’t know you worked here?” Castiel said. 

“I don’t.” Dean shrugged. “Andrea’s husband Benny is one of my best friends. Andrea got a call from their daughter’s daycare that Lizzie got sick, and Benny’s running his own restaurant so he couldn’t get away. Anyway, Andrea needed someone to cover the shop ‘til Tessa comes in for the closing shift, so she called in a favor.” 

Castiel smiled. “They’re lucky to have a friend like you to help them in their hour of need.” 

Dean smiled and a faint blush crept across his cheekbones. Immediately, Castiel wanted to see it again and again.

Bela loudly cleared her throat, and Castiel turned his attention away from Dean to look at her. She was glaring at the two of them, her arms crossed. Her red polished fingernails tapped peevishly against her bicep. 

“Is anyone going to take my order, or am I going to have to make it myself?” She groused. 

“Sorry about that.” Dean apologized, and plastered on the very charming grin that Castiel hadn’t been able to get out of his mind the last few days. “What can I get you, ma’am?” 

“A cappuccino,” Bela said. “Extra frothy, and a small house salad, arugula, not that abomination you call romaine lettuce, balsamic vingarette dressing.”

Dean smiled. “Unfortunately we don’t have arugula.” He said. “But I’d be happy to replace it with spinach.”

“I don’t _want_ spinach.” Bela said, and if Castiel had ever had any doubts about whether she’d ever been told no in her life, he’d never question it again. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t.” Dean shook his head, his voice still pleasant and calm, despite the way Bela was treating him; Castiel supposed working as a bartender had given him years of practice. “But if you’re here with Cas, I’d say you’re probably pretty important.” 

“Yes, _I am._ I’m more important than you’ve ever been or ever will be, and will especially be so if I become the next princess of this kingdom. So best you get some practice in, yes?”

Dean’s eyes flicked to Castiel, and Castiel felt a surge of anger at the discomfort he saw there. How _dare_ Bela treat someone like this?! One of his own people?! And _Dean_ no less! 

Before he could get a word in edgewise, Bela continued: 

“And while I wait for my cappuccino and for you to rustle up some arugula, why don’t you bring us both some _sparkling_ water to tide us over?” She looked at the water glass in front of her with disdain, as if plain, uncarbonated water was the most disgusting thing she’d ever seen. 

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll go see what we have in the back.” 

He glanced at Castiel one last time before he turned and disappeared into the back room. 

***

Goddamn, but that lady was a _bitch!_

Dean mumbled under his breath as he passed through the doors into the kitchen, a few choice words slipping out of his mouth. Kevin, one of the kitchen staff, looked up in alarm. 

“You okay, Dean?” He asked, his voice wavering slightly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. 

“I’m fine, Kevin.” Dean assured him. “We just have...a real pain in the ass customer at the moment, that’s all.”

Kevin glances around him to peer out the little window in the kitchen door. “Wait, is that Prince Castiel?” 

Dean sighed. 

“Yeah, that’s him. And his _date._ ” 

Dean wasn’t gonna lie; he liked Cas. Even though it had been a few days since he’d first met him, Dean could already feel the stirrings of a _massive_ crush coming on, driving at him at full speed, like his Baby on an open stretch of road. It was hard not to like the guy; he was sweet, kind of a dork, and he just wanted to be treated like a normal person. He was also gorgeous, that much was impossible to be denied. 

Dean had been incredibly tempted to ask him for his phone number the other night, but one thing, one little, glaring, totally not an elephant in the room thing had stopped him from asking. 

Cas is a _prince_ , a prince who has to get _married_ in six months, a prince who would never be interested in a mechanic by day, bartender by night like Dean. What was the point in even asking for a guy so completely out of his league’s phone number? 

Still, Dean couldn’t deny that he’d felt the familiar flutter of excitement when he’d realized it was Cas sitting in front of him at the table he’d blindly walked over to, too preoccupied with trying to find a blank page in the little order notebook from the counter and not spilling the glass pitcher of water to notice just who it was that he was even approaching in the first place until it was too late. He’d completely forgotten, for a moment, that Cas hadn’t come alone. 

“Hey Kev,” he said. “I’m gonna need you to run across the street and see if the grocer has arugula.” 

Kevin wrinkled his nose. “Why?”

“Because Her Royal Highn- _ass_ out there is demanding it, and honestly, I get the feeling it’s just better we give her what she wants.” He pulled out his wallet and held out a twenty. 

“Fine.” Kevin plucked the bill from his hand. “But I’m keeping the change.”

Dean laughed. “Whatever, man.” He said. “You’re potentially saving my ass here. You deserve it.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Kevin waves him off. “I’ll be right back.”

Dean busied himself with getting everything else ready, including snagging a bottle of San Pellegrino for Princess Bitch out there from the fridge. Cappuccinos were relatively easy, so he cranked on out for Her Royal Pain-in-the-Ass before he grabbed two clean glasses from the rack next to the sink and headed back out into the café, where he saw Cas studying the café’s surroundings while his date scrolled on her phone, her nails clicking on the table as she strummed her fingers irritably. 

“Sorry about the wait,” he said. “I’ve got someone looking for arugula for you, ma’am. He won’t be long.”

“Too late for that.” She said, rolling her eyes. 

He sat the cup down on the table and popped the cap of the pellegrino, making sure to pour it so the bubbles didn’t fizz over; years of bartending had served him well. He moved it towards her. 

“Here you go.” He said. He moved to pour another cup for Cas, but the prince shook his head. 

“Plain water is fine for me, thank you, Dean.” He said. He smiled gently at Dean, and Dean felt that stupid crush go up another tick.

The woman picked up her cappuccino and took a sip, and Dean supposed she was satisfied, since she sat the cup back down without a comment, but she did fix him with a glare that told him that on no uncertain terms was he welcome here. 

“I’m going to go check on that salad for you,” Dean excused himself back to the kitchen like he had a hellhound on his tail, only breathing once he had the doors behind him. 

Kevin had returned from the market across the street and was busy preparing Miss Bitch’s salad. He was busy chopping pieces of fresh mozzarella from the Lafitte farm into cubes and artfully arranging them on the bed of greens. 

“Almost done,” Kevin said without Dean having to ask. “Just have to drizzle the vinegarette.” He grabbed a blue glass bottle from a little shelf on the wall and carefully drizzled it over the salad. He handed the plate to Dean. 

“Thanks, man,” Dean said, hoping he sounded as grateful as he felt. “I’ll make sure Andrea gives you a raise for this.” 

Kevin smirked. “Fat chance, but I appreciate it.” He said. 

Dean gave him a two fingered half salute before he ducked back into the café. Cas and Her Royal Bitchness were speaking quietly, but Dean didn’t hear what they were saying as he approached; it wasn’t his business. 

“Here you are,” Dean gently sat the plate down on the table, pulling a roll of silverware from his apron pocket. “One house salad.” 

Cas’s date looked down at the salad. 

“What is this?” She said, calmly, a strange edge to her voice. 

“House salad special,” Dean explained. He did not like where this was going one bit. “Arugula with fresh mozzarella, cherry tomatoes, grilled chicken, avocado, and balsamic vinaigrette.”

Dean watched as, almost in slow motion, Princess High n’ Mighty gingerly picked up the plate of salad, and pushed it off the table. The plate shattered, and the greens squished beneath her pointed toe heels as she stomped a foot down onto the mess. 

“I do believe,” she said, dangerously calm. “That I asked for arugula. _This_ abomination is _kale._ ”

Dean felt anger flare in his chest. Screw the age old “the customer is always right” bullshit; this bitch needed to be taken a peg! 

“Now wait a minute—” he started, but Lady Bitchy Britches beat him to it. 

“Clean this up and have whatever weevils it is you call your kitchen staff make me another, _correctly_ this time.” She demanded.

Cas interjected then with “Bela!” But Dean had had enough.

“What the hell, lady?!” He hollered. “You come in here, acting like you own the place, bad mouth my staff, break my shit, and then have the balls to demand a new dish?!” 

The woman - Bela, he’d heard Cas call her - smirked at him. 

“I most certainly do, darling.” She said sweetly. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, but I assure you it’s nothing less than make your life a living hell.”

“Bela, that’s enough.” Cas said, voice hard and steely. 

Bela ignored him. 

“Now, how about you be a good boy and clean this mess up?”

Dean felt heat flare across the back of his neck at the words “good boy.” He had always hated that phrase; it was demeaning, made him feel like he was seen as more a pet than anything else; he always got the eebie jeebies whenever he heard it directed at another human being, in particular himself. Years ago, for the right price, he’d have let someone call him whatever they wanted, even _that_ , but that life was behind him.

“How about this,” he growled. “You get your bitchy ass out of my café.” 

Bela’s jaw dropped, and she huffed out a laugh. 

“How dare you?” She demanded. “You really have no idea who you’re fucking with.” 

“Don’t care.” Dean said. “I’ve seen enough to know that you’re a spoiled bitch that needs to be taken down a peg. Get the fuck out.” 

Bela regarded him with a steely look, but Dean refused to back down. He had taken too much shit for too long; he knew that Andrea wouldn’t want someone like this bitch stinking up her cafe, so he didn’t worry about that; what he did worry about was Cas, who had taken a half step towards Dean, though Dean refused to look away from Bela to see his facial expression. Dean hated to think that this could be the last time he laid eyes on the pretty prince, hated that he had likely ruined his date (despite the fact that Dean fervently believed he deserved better than his awful woman), hated that Cas would probably think him to be rude, unprofessional, and thus unworthy of any of his time from this moment on. But Dean had been shit on way too many times in his life to allow someone this petty, this narcissistic, to walk all over him for even a second longer. 

“Are you going to let him speak to me this way?!” Bela demanded of Cas. 

“Hey, this doesn’t involve him.” Dean said before Cas could say a word. “Me n’ him are good. _You_ on the other hand, can get the fuck out. I’d suggest you see yourself out; you won’t like it if I have to do it for you.” 

Bela smirked, and Dean saw her reach for the cup of cappuccino on the table. He had the frame of mind to close his eyes just in time for Bela to throw it in his face, the hot (but thankfully not entirely scalding) liquid unpleasant as it burned his lip and eyelids. He yelped and pawed at his face, sputtering as it dripped into his nose and mouth.

“Bela!” He heard Cas holler, his voice hard and powerful, and Dean was, momentarily, reminded that Cas was a prince named for an angel; he certainly sounded like an avenging angel in that moment.

It was a bit hot, if he was being honest. 

“I won’t allow him to treat me this way!” Bela said. 

“I’ve had enough.” Cas growled. “You have been nothing but rude since we arrived here. You’ve insulted my kingdom, my people, my family’s garden, and now you’ve gone and assaulted one of my citizens after subjecting him to several abuses. Whether or not you return to the palace is up to you, but you’re to leave immediately. We will not be exploring this courtship any further.” 

There was the sound of heels clicking on the tile, and the bell above the door tolled loudly as it was slammed. Seconds later, there were hands on his face, gently wiping at the hot coffee in his burning eyes. 

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.” Cas’s voice was soft and gentle. “You didn’t deserve that.” 

Dean slowly opened his blurry eyes to find Cas grabbing more napkins from the dispenser on the table, continuing to mop up the liquid running down Dean’s face. He saw that it had completely soaked the front of his AC/DC shirt, too, and though his apron had caught most of it. 

“It’s fine,” Dean said quietly, wincing. “Sorry I ruined your date.” 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Cas assured him. “It was going abysmally to begin with. You just helped exacerbate the inevitable.” 

“Glad I could help, then.” Dean tried to grin, but the tang of frothy milk was sour on his tongue as he realized the extent to what had just happened. 

“Shit, Cas,” he said, panic beginning to set in. “What if she tries to come after Andrea? I don’t work here, I’m just doing her a favor, and if she gets bad press for this from some heiress…”

“I won’t let that happen.” Cas assured him. “Further, the way Bela treated you was deplorable. I would say you responded much more rationally than others in your position may have. In fact, you acted much more rationally than some of the people I witnessed in New York.”

“Years of bartending.” Dean shrugged. He plucked at his soggy t-shirt. “Good thing this is black, or else I’d be worried it would stain.”

“I’m so sorry she did this,” Cas said as he dapped at a stray drop of cappuccino that had pooled behind Dean’s ear. 

Dean shrugged. “I’ve had much worse.” 

“That doesn’t make it right.” Cas shook his head. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Dean said. “Seriously, I don’t live far from here, and Tessa should be here in, like, five minutes. I’ll live.” 

Cas bit his bottom lip, and it was ten kinds of adorable. Seriously, why did this guy have to be a prince and so far out of Dean’s league? 

“Let me make it up to you, then.” Cas said, completely throwing Dean for a loop. “It’s the least I can do, for the way she treated you.”

“You askin’ me out on a date, Cas?” Dean teased. 

“If that’s what you’d prefer to call it.” Cas responded, and Dean’s brain puttered to an abrupt stop. 

Did Castiel, _Prince_ Castiel, second in line for the throne of Caelum, just ask him out on a date? 

Something in his facial expression must have given away his brief lack of cognitive computation, because Cas quickly amended, “Of course, it doesn’t have to be. It’s just that I would like to get know you better, if that’s alright with you. You seem like a very interesting person. I’ve been meaning to come back to the Roadhouse, but with all the publicity meetings and other obligations, I haven’t gotten the chance.”

“Uh,” is all Dean can manage to get out. 

Something minute falls in Cas’s face, and Dean hates himself for ever allowing it to happen, no matter how brief. 

“No, I mean, I’d love to get a coffee that hasn’t been flung in my face, if you’re into that kinda thing.” Dean amended, hoping it didn’t sound half as awkward as it felt.

Cas smiled. “Coffee sounds wonderful. And perhaps lunch?” 

Dean slapped his hand against his forehead. 

“Shit, I never took your order!” He groaned. “I am so sorry, I was so caught up in making sure Princess Bitch was taken care of, it completely slipped my mind!”

“It’s alright, Dean,” Cas assured him. “I’m not offended.” 

At that moment, Tessa pushed her way into the cafe, a look of confusion and concern written plainly across her face. Just before the door closed, the shrill, angry voice of Bela could be heard screeching various obscenities. 

“Does anybody know what’s up with crazy lady out there? Apparently her ride kicked her out and left her on the curb. She’s _pissed_.” 

Dean groaned. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What if she went online and dragged the cafe? He didn’t even work here; he was just helping out his friend. Andrea worked hard to keep this place running; she’d damn near worked herself to death trying to make enough to support Benny while he finished his culinary and businesses classes at the local community college, all while heavily pregnant with Lizzie, just so Benny could fulfill his dream of opening his own restaurant. A bad review from someone like Bela, who had connections that extended far beyond just that of the local populus, could devistate and eviserate everything his friends had worked for, and it would be all his fault for not biting his tongue and just doing what the lady wanted, even if it had been dehumanizing. 

“That would be my date.” Cas spoke up, and his voice was steady. “She was asked to leave a few moments ago for throwing a hot cup of coffee in Dean’s face.” 

Tessa turned to Dean. “Oh my god, are you okay?!” She said. “Did it burn you?!” 

“I’m fine, Tessa.” Dean assured her. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“What kind of person does that?!” Tessa demanded. “She better be glad I wasn’t here; I’d have kicked her ass ten ways to Tuesday.”

Cas laughed. “It’s no less than she deserves.” He said. “Especially considering Dean was only defending himself from being treated quite poorly.” He looked ashamed. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop her sooner, Dean.” He said. 

Dean huffed. “With an attitude like hers, I’m not surprised she didn’t let you get a word in edgewise, man. Don’t sweat it.” 

“Still, I do intend to make up for it.” Cas insisted. And, as if reading Dean’s inner turmoil, he added, “As for Bela, don’t worry about her; I’ll handle any fallout she may attempt to dole out.”

Dean felt himself fall just a tiny bit harder for the handsome prince in that moment. Not only had he come to Dean’s defense like an knight in shining armor, but he was also saving Dean’s ass by making sure his friend’s livelihood was protected from the consequences of his words and actions, no matter how staunchly he would defend them. 

Cas glanced out the front window of the cafe, and winced. He looked at Dean. 

“It appears my ride has left me as well as Bela.” He said. “Not that I blame her; Bela was incredibly rude to Lily as we rode here. Not to make this sound like the end of a college frat party, but is there a back entrance we can sneak out of?” 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, we can take my car. I’m parked out back.” 

“Excellent.” Cas smiled, and then turned his attention to Tessa. “Will you be alright if we leave?” 

Tessa grinned. “Oh yeah. I’m going to school to be a mortician, AND I spent thirteen years in jujitsu classes. I can handle her, if she tries anything.” She gestured to the salad on the floor. “She even steps foot back in here and she’ll end up like this poor, defenceless salad.” 

“Don’t hesitate to call Jody if you need to.” Dean said, untying the back of his apron and slipping it over his head, using it to towel off his still coffee-damp hair.

“Oh don’t worry,” Tessa said. “I won’t.” 

Dean gave Tessa a salute before he turned his attention back to Cas. “Follow me this way.” 

Tessa held the kitchen door open for them, on her way to grab an apron from where they were hanging nearest the time clock. Dean patted Kevin on the shoulder as he walked past, and Kevin gave him a half smile, half grimace. 

“Don’t worry man,” Dean said. “The evil has been defeated. She’s gone.” 

“Oh thank god.” Kevin breathed. “Not going to lie, she scared the shit out of me.” 

Dean laughed. “Don’t blame you, man. Thanks for all your help.” 

“Anytime, Dean. See you around.” Kevin said. He looked past Dean at Cas, and his eyes got comically wide. “Holy shit, uh…” 

“For the record,” Cas said. “I thought your salad was spectacular in its presentation, and I’m sure it tasted delicious.” 

“Uhh…” Kevin glanced at Dean, then over at Tessa at the time clock, who was looking at them funny. “Thanks, Your Highness?” 

Dean quickly ushered Cas towards the back door. 

“Thanks again for cleaning up that salad, Tessa.” Dean called as they walked out. 

Just before the door closed, Tessa could be heard screeching from inside, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT WAS THE PRINCE?!”

Cas laughed beside him. “I don’t know how I ever thought I could go anywhere in this city and not get recognized.” 

“Hey, you gave it your best shot.” Dean grinned at him. “It’s not your fault I have impecable observation skills.” 

“A regular boy scout.” Cas teased. 

Dean led the way across the large parking lot behind the strip where Andrea’s was nestled, towards his Baby, parked at the far back of the lot. 

“Well, here she is.” Dean said proudly, walking around to the driver’s side. “It ain’t a gilded carriage or nothin’, but she’s got a grace all her own.” 

“She’s lovely.” Cas’s voice was reverent, and Dean felt his crush on the man tick up another mark. _Goddammit_. “She’s, what, a ‘66?” 

“‘67,” Dean corrected. “You know your classics. I like that in a guy.” He winked, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strong. 

Cas either didn’t seem to mind, or he didn’t notice. He smoothed his palm along the warm metal of Baby’s hood.

“She’s been well cared for.” 

“She’s kinda a family heirloom. She was my dad’s ‘fore she was mine. I’ve had to rebuild her from the ground up, but she was worth every second.” He laughed. “I’m pretty sure I was conceived in the backseat, if I’m honest. Dad never outright confirmed it, but I’ve always had my suspicions.”

(Sam, on the other hand, definitely had not been.) 

Dean loved the way Cas threw his head back and laughed, as though Dean had just told him the funniest story he’d ever heard. It would be so easy for him to fall in love with that laugh. 

Dean knew himself well enough to know that he fell in love easily, and quickly, and he knew that if he wasn’t careful, he could easily fall into a hole he couldn’t dig himself out with this one. Cas was a goddamn _prince_ , for fuck’s sake. A prince who had to get _married_ within the year, no less. There’s no way he’d waste his time on a guy like Dean. 

And yet, Dean had somehow found himself here, standing with the second Prince of Caelum about to get into his car to go get coffee together in what Cas himself had said he wouldn’t mind calling a date, if that was Dean’s preference.

In his heart of hearts, the little voice that was the conductor of the crush train currently speeding through his brain was screaming “all aboard!” Dean didn’t dare allow himself to hope that Cas actually meant it as a _date_ , rather than just a friendly get together that happened to involve coffee. 

Cas opened the passenger door and slipped inside,and Dean took a deep breath before he followed suit. 

“You obviously love this car.” Cas said appraisingly. “She’s been well loved.” 

“She’s my baby, that’s for sure.” Dean agreed. He started her up and put her in drive. 

“You said you live near here.” Cas said conversationally. 

“Yeah, I actually, uh, live above the Roadhouse. Ellen - that’s my boss who is also like my second mom - rents me the studio apartment upstairs.” 

“Well, at least your commute is short.” Dean laughed. “I roll out of bed, throw on some pants, and head downstairs. It only sucks when I’m hungover.” 

Cas laughed. 

“So tell me,” Dean asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. “Who was Princess Bitch back there?” 

Cas snorted. “She’s hardly a princess, though she obviously thinks herself one. She’s Lady Bela Talbot, the only daughter of the Duke of Talbot.” He explained. Dean decided to pretend he even knew where Talbot was. “We’ve known each other since we were children, though I don’t think we’ve actually met more than a dozen times since then. My mother believes that she and I would make a good match, that solidifying a marriage with Talbot would strengthen our allyship.”

Dean grimaced. “So, according to your mom, your whole dating profile is all about what political ties could come out of it?” 

Cas hummed. “Such is the life of a second born son, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean said, sincerely. 

“Don’t be.” Cas said. “I have accepted the hand life has dealt to me. Had I found someone before now, it would not have been the issue it currently is, but considering the time is ticking, my mother is particularly focused on setting me up with the most politically promising and publically gainful matches she can, to see if any stick. The choice is ultimately mine, but tradition dictates that I must make a decision before my 26th birthday in September. Should I happen to fall in love, or even find someone somewhat tolerable with any of the suitors shown my way, that would be ideal, but my mother is not as concerned with that aspect.” 

Dean’s heart ached for the man in the passenger seat. Prince or not, Cas deserved the opportunity to marry for love, not prospects. This was the 21st century, for fuck’s sake! What kind of mom was the Queen of Caelum, if her primary concern was not that her son was happy, but was instead paired with someone who looked good on paper? 

“Anyway,” Cas continued. “Bela is just the first in what I suspect will be a long line of suitors to come, I’m afraid. I know my mother had high hopes that maybe we’d get along, but I could never be with someone who treats other people as poorly as Bela treated you.”

Dean’s heart swelled, just a bit. “Wish everybody felt that way.” 

“As do I.” Cas agreed.

Dean turned Baby around the corner, pulling her into the lot behind the Roadhouse. He parked her in her spot underneath the carport, safe and sound from any bird droppings or freak hailstorms, and killed the engine. 

“You wanna come inside, or you wanna wait here?” He asked. 

“I would love the chance to borrow your restroom, if possible.” Cas said. 

“Sure, c’mon.” Dean said. “Fair warning, it ain’t the Ritz or nothin’, but I promise it’s clean.” 

“I remind you that I lived in New York City, Dean.” Cas said, a smile at the corner of his lips. “There is very little that could faze me at this point.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Dean led the way to the back of the building, opening the door that led into the back stairwell. A flight of stairs to his left led to his apartment, whereas the door immediately in front of them led to the kitchen of the Roadhouse. Dean motioned for Cas to follow him up the stairs. 

His apartment was nothing special; it had nice hardwood floors and an open floor plan, with arched doorways and a wide, open bay window facing out over the main strip of road. When Sam was in undergrad, he would often sit on the seat and study for his exams. Even Dean sometimes sat there to peoplewatch. 

“Bathroom is all the way down the hall, to the left.” Dean said.”It’s the only room with a toilet. Can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean couldn’t help but watch him as he walked away. A flash of heat crossed his senses as he noticed how good the prince’s ass looked in those dress pants. 

While Cas took a piss, Dean set about scooping three scoops of Lobster Butter grounds into his French press, and set his kettle on to boil. 

A few moments later, Cas came strolling back into his kitchen, curiously surveying Dean’s apartment. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and put some water on for French press coffee.” Dean said. “I know it ain’t fancy or anythin’, but it’s my favorite brew and I think you’ll like it just as much as any bourgie coffee you can get at Starbucks.”

Cas smiled. “I don’t mind.” He said. “I like your apartment better than Starbucks, anyhow.” The sincerity in his voice made Dean blush even harder than he had when he’d been checking out Cas’s ass. 

“Make yourself at home.” Dean said. “Mi casa es su casa, and all that.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

The kettle whistled, and Dean grabbed it to pour it over the grounds. He stirred it well with a wooden spoon and pressed the lid on to let it sit for four minutes. Dean looked back through the doorway into the living room, where Cas had settled onto his somewhat lumpy but oh so comfortable couch, surveying his array of coffee table books, flipping through the one of that weird international scavenger hunt thing Sam did a few summers back. 

“You like anything in your coffee?” Dean asked, knocking on the doorframe to get his attention. 

“Just sugar and a dash of cream is fine.” Cas answered. 

Dean dug through his cupboards until he found the sugar cubes. 

“All I got’s milk.” He reported after a quick glance in the fridge. 

“That’s fine, Dean.” Cas said back. 

Dean splashed a bit of milk into the mug and gently pressed the coffee before pouring it into the mug. He added two sugar cubes and stirred it well before he poured himself a cup black and grabbed the mugs. He handed one to Cas as he sat down on the couch next to him. Cas took the cup and smiled appreciatively. 

Cas sighed appreciatively as he took a sip.

“This is delightful.” He said. “What is this?”

“It’s called Lobster Butter.” Dean explained. “It’s from Ann Arbor, Michigan. It’s my favorite. Sam got it for me when he went there on a trip once, to tour the U of M when he was considering law schools. I have to special order it these days, but I think it’s worth it.” 

Cas smiled. “I have to agree.” He said. “I’ve never been to Michigan. I didn’t travel much when I was living in the States. I went to Colorado a few times to go skiing, and once went to Austin. I even went to Vancouver one spring break with my friend Balthazar.”

Dean felt a wisp of jealousy, “I’ve never left Caelum,” he said. 

“You said you were from Lawrence?” Cas said, and Dean felt surprised he’d remembered their conversation from nearly a week ago. 

“Born n’ raised.” Dean nodded. “Lived there until about five years ago, when me n’ Sam moved here.”

“Looking for a change of scenery?” Castiel inquired.

“You could say that.” Dean said. He’d be _damned_ if Cas ever found out the real reason. “Our uncle Bobby lives out here. We moved in with him. He owns the body shop I work at when I’m not bartending.”

“You said you were a mechanic?” Cas asked, taking another drink of coffee.

“Yep. Specialize in restoration.”

Cas laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me, considering how well you’ve taken care of your own car.”

Dean felt yet another blush creeping up the back of his neck, and he rubbed at it to try and hide his bashfulness. 

“I mean, I like it.” He said. “Cars are like a puzzle. You just have to figure out how to put it together. I really love getting my hands in there and figuring out what’s wrong and then figuring out how I can fix it and make it run. I dunno, it’s kinda cathartic, in a way, if that makes sense.” 

“I think so.” Cas answered. “Some people knit, some paint, some watch slime videos on YouTube. You just happen to like restoring classic cars. It’s not all that much different than putting together models, just on a larger scale, if you ask me.” 

Dean smiled. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

Cas smiled back, and Dean became hyper aware of how close they were sitting on his couch. He cleared his throat, and sat his mug on the table and stood, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans, hoping Cas wouldn’t notice. 

“So, uh, I don’t have much, but I can make you something to eat here, if you want.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Cas agreed. 

“How do you feel about grilled cheese?”

***

Castiel could not help it; he was endlessly charmed by the sweet, somewhat shy side of Dean he was slowing getting to know as they sat together on Dean’s couch in his small apartment, dunking their grilled cheese in bowls of tomato rice soup. 

Dean was, Castiel could tell, a sweet soul. He blushed whenever Castiel praised his food or the way he decorated his apartment, which was endlessly adorable, in Castiel’s book. 

He couldn’t help but feel connected to Dean, like a moth drawn to flame. He didn’t know how to explain it; something about Dean felt _right_ , somehow. 

He and Dean sat for what felt like hours, just talking, like they’d done down at the bar the week before. It was easy to lose track of time with Dean, and Castiel had a hard time regretting it. 

It wasn’t until Castiel’s phone rang that he realized what time it was. 

It _had_ been hours that he and Dean had been talking. Three, to be exact.

_Fuck._

“Shit,” he said when he saw Gabriel’s name flashing across the caller ID. “It’s my brother. I should probably take this.” 

Dean nodded, green eyes wide. “Yeah, man, whatever you gotta do.” 

Castiel gave him a short nod of thanks, and stepped into the kitchen, answering the phone. 

“Hello, Gabriel.” He said. 

“Caaaaaaaaaasie.” Gabriel sing-songed from the other end of the line. “You got some ‘splainin’ to do.” 

“I believe it’s safe to say that Bela found her way back to the palace, then?” Castiel surmised. 

“Yep.” Gabriel said, popping the P. “And let me tell you, hell hath no fury like Bela Talbot scorned.”

Castiel winced. He could only imagine the inflated story Bela was currently selling to his parents, likely making it sound as if Castiel had spurned and embarrassed her in public, rather than the fact that the truth of the matter was that Bela had embarrassed herself but mistreating Dean as she had. Still, he knew he needed to get home before any further damage was done. 

“I can imagine.” Castiel agreed with his brother. “I’ll be home as soon as possible.”

“Mom’s trying to do damage control as we speak, but fair warning, she’s pissed.” Gabriel said. “Bela’s threatening to go to the press, saying you ran off with a waiter after he verbally abused her and threw her food on the floor when she asked for an exchange.” 

“That’s not what happened.” Castiel felt a flare of anger burst in his chest. He knew Bela was likely to embellish the story in order to make it sound as if she were the victim. “I’ll explain everything when I get home, okay? Just...try to stall until I get there.” 

“Can do.” Gabe said. “Over and out.” 

“Goodbye, Gabe.” 

Castiel hung up the phone and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should have gone straight home after he knew Dean was alright. Instead, he’d lost track of three hours, during which Bela had been able to make her way back to the palace and undoubtedly try and spin Castiel and Dean as the villains, possibly even getting the media involved somehow. 

He felt a light touch on his arm, and looked up to find Dean holding out the suit jacket he’d removed some time ago, a concerned look on his face. 

“You need to get back to the palace, I can drive you.” He offered. “It sounds important.” 

Castiel nodded. “Yes, a ride would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, Dean.” 

Dean smiled, and nodded. He grabbed his keys from the little bowl by the door as Castiel shrugged back into his jacket. They both hurried back to the Impala, and ducked inside. 

The ride back towards the palace was quiet, with both of them sitting in what was honestly welcomed companionable silence. Castiel kept his hands in his lap, though his fingers itched to reach out and touch Dean’s where they rested on the steering wheel. 

He really, really was smitten. 

Finally, Dean broke the silence.

“I’m sorry if you’re in trouble ‘cause a’ me, Cas.” He said softly.

“None of this is your fault, Dean.” Castiel assured him. “I shouldn’t have lost track of time. I’ll calm Bela down, explain everything to my parents. All will be taken care of.” 

Dean gently eased the Impala to a stop on the curb across the street from the palace’s back entrance, the one Castiel had used to sneak out the week prior to go to the Roadhouse. He turned to face Castiel across the bench seat, and Castiel noticed he was worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“I, uh,” Dean didn’t look at Castiel, instead focusing on a slightly frayed thread on the leather upholstery. “I wish it had been in better circumstances, but I had a good time today, Cas. It was fun hangin’ out with you.” 

Castiel smiled. “I did, too.” He agreed. “I’d...I’d like to do it again, if you’re amenable.” 

Dean looked at him this time, surprise written across his features. 

“Wait, really?” 

“I like you, Dean.” Castiel admitted. “There's something about you that I just can’t help but feel attracted to. I’d like to get to know you better.” He smiled. “Be that in a completely platonic way or not.” 

Dean’s green eyes were wide, and he blinked, his mouth slightly parted. He licked his lips before he gave Castiel a small smile. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He said quietly. “You’re pretty cool, Cas. I’d like to see you again, too.” 

Castiel felt his heart thump wildly against his chest, and he wondered if Dean could hear it. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time; it was invigorating. 

“Please understand that I will likely have to entertain other suitors from time to time.” He said, unwilling to leave any cards unturned here. “I am a prince, and it’s tradition. But I...I would really like to spend whatever time I can between them with you. Even if we just sit and talk like we did today.” 

“Yeah.” Dean agreed. “Yeah, Cas, I’d like that a lot.” 

Castiel reached into his pocket and handed Dean his phone. 

“Give me your number.” He said. “And I’ll text you the next time I’m free.” 

Dean took the phone, and typed in his phone number. He handed the phone back to Castiel, who saved it immediately. 

“I wish I could stay longer, but I really need to get back to make sure any damage Bela has already caused is minimal.” He said apologetically. 

“I get it.” Dean said. “I’ll see you later, then?” 

Castiel smiled. “Yes, you’ll see me again very soon, Dean.” 

“Awesome.” Dean smiled back in return. 

Before he could overthink it, Castiel leaned across the bench and kissed Dean’s cheek before he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. 

“Goodbye, Dean.” 

He didn’t turn to see what Dean’s expression was before he turned and bolted across the street, ducking through the door and letting himself back into the palace. 

He allowed himself to linger for a moment, leaning his forehead against the door as what he had just done caught up to him. 

He had kissed Dean. Granted, it was just a kiss on the cheek, one that could almost be considered chaste, but it was a kiss, all the same. 

Castiel couldn’t fight the excited, almost childish way his heart fluttered in his stomach, giving him the feeling of weightlessness often associated with roller coaster rides. He wondered, briefly, if that is what angels felt like when they flew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck as writing slow burns, so a slow burn is just not gonna happen here. Sorry not sorry. 
> 
> I always really liked Bela. She was so much fun to hate. However I felt super awful about her backstory so I’m this one her dad is a chill dude.
> 
> Lobster Butter is a real coffee! I’m from the Ann Arbor area, so it’s fairly popular around here, second to Zingerman’s. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: the crazy lady that wanted 14 kids and corgis was Becky. Just so everyone knows. 
> 
> (Also, I have a corgi (his name is Argo and I adore him), and I assure you, 14 is entirely too few!)


End file.
